


Spaghetti

by Xiomara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Awkwardness, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build, Team Crackship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiomara/pseuds/Xiomara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief makes people crazy. This is the story of a sad old man and a sad young woman who finally see each other after much loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvaRosier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/gifts), [tourdefierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/gifts), [maraudersly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Might Like You Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069733) by [maraudersly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersly/pseuds/maraudersly). 



"Allison is dead, Lydia."

"She should've listened to me! I told her to stay away," she cleared the table with one swoop, save for the photographs on the edge of the desk. You forget how short her arms are, how tiny she is without those spikes they call shoes. "This was my fault. If I was stronger, if I was faster, I could've..." 

You expect her to crumble, fall down on her knees and wail like a child, but she doesn't. A step forward fired a glare. It was enough to root him on the spot. "Lydia, you-"

"Don't." She was ready to cry and you were ready as you would ever be. "Don't you dare say anything or I swear, I will scream and I will kill you."

"Do it." Her face scrunched. That was unexpected. "You want control, Lydia. Then go ahead and take it," Chris splayed his palms for her. "I've lost my wife. My sister is dead and Alli..." His eyes stung. "I'm the last man standing. So what the hell, Lydia, Chris Argent slain by a banshee? That's just heralding the inevitable." 

Her eyes went wide, her mouth parted. For a moment, it worked. The black and white prevailed against the greys. People live, people die. It did not matter if you were human, wolf, kanima, a Tinkerbell. Allison, age 6, pulled on a blonde wig to finish her costume. Clap your hands if you believe, daddy. 

Lydia picked a framed photo, a younger Allison flanked by her mother and father. She wanted to hate her. It would've been easier. Allison had the perfect flawless life: beautiful inside and out, a mother and a father who loved her most, and this natural magnetic field that defied physics because look at the people she called friends. A frumpy zero to hero, a scatter-brained sidekick, a loner to end all loners, hell somewhere along the line Allison and Scott's squeeze became friends. And she was my friend. Heaven knows how long she'd pick and peel the skin off fresh meat, Lydia Martin was queen of all mean queens but Allison looked past her attempt to befriend and destroy. 

Why did you get comfortable again. Boo, you whore.

She lost track of how long they stood, cradled in silence. Gripping the frame, she bore into the older man but his gaze were eons away. "How could you be okay with this?"

His light blue eyes flashed, registering the words from the other but he could not tear himself away from the memories of his daughter. Strip the office, rub the other away, he was alone. That's all they were now, his wife, his sister, his daughter. Gone. "Who said I wasn't?"

"Liar!" She swore at him and hurled the frame at his face. It caught him on the mouth. Glass shattered to pieces, sobering the two in the room. He staggered backward, unable to fathom what happened. His back broke into the bookshelf and by the time, he hit the floor Lydia was by his side, laughing.

"I didn't think you'd try to kill me." He scoffed before he bared a smile at the lifted atmosphere. It was better to laugh than to cry. At this point, he could smell her, perfume or shampoo or both, for someone like Lydia, it'd be strawberries, floral musk but Chris was wrong. The Banshee smelt like the sea.

Her shoulders trembled. It was a foreign yet familiar sight. Red hair, short skirts and the shouting, he was here before. "Hey," he ducked his head to spot the quirk of her lips. "Spare this old man some slack."

She swung the back of her hand to his face, but he grabbed her wrist, pulled the other and until he locked her in an embrace. "Lydia..." 

"Let go of me." She thrashed against him, her legs thrown to her side as she struggled to get back on her feet. 

He held her hard. "Not until you calm down." _Where the hell was McCall?_

Woven limbs, heavy breaths and frantic hearts. How long were they gone? To someone who wandered at this side of the house, it would've been another scandal to taint the town drowning in red. His lips hovered above her ear as she fitted him like a ragdoll. She shook her head, her hair scratched the four day scruff on his neck. It tickled. He steeled his chest and held his breath. Giggling was inappropriate.

"Why is it always me?" Her voice was small. "Why do they always leave?" She leaned into him, relented to the warmth of a sad old man, spread wetness above his heart and smeared across his shirt. He loosed his grip, smoothing the back of her head. 

"Everything's going to be alright, Lydia."

She shook her head. "I'm not crying!" Tilting her head back, she tried to inhale the tears away and gave him the length of her neck, her shapely collarbones down to the valley trail hidden by flesh. His breath hitched and he cleared his throat, lingering for another second before he called her back. "We should meet the others."

With her cheeks flushed, her hair toussled, Lydia glared at him once more. He met her furrowed brows and wondered what he did wrong. "I'm sorry..." Hoping, it sounded more sincere than the confusion rising within him, he repeated it once more. "For everything, I know how it feels. I've been there, I'm still there but it will get better be-"

Her hands were on his face, stealing the moment his lips parted mid-sentence and assaulted his sincerity and his semantics with fevered kiss. Sweet, sour and hot all at once. It was over before it began. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Argent," Lydia licked her lips as she adjusted her hips. He reeled her over with a chain of surprises, but he groaned as the very words popped out of her mouth: "It won't happen again." 

Lights went off.

The door peeped open before it slammed shut. Lydia spun round and followed the trail of buttons past the stubble, she cranked her neck. In the darkness, his light blue eyes were silver. His hand snaked on her thigh. "Do you know what you're playing at, Lydia?" The words strained the veins in his neck. His touch sizzled, an electric current struck her synapses and made her palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy.

As his hand smoothed upward, a sharp gasp escaped her. "Mom's spaghetti..." she moaned. Her eyes shut as she struggled to keep standing, but Chris Argent started laughing.

"Mom's spaghetti?"

Heat fled from the crux and filled the back of her ears, Lydia was certain when the lights came on, and they did, he'd see her turn into a carrot. It was worse under this lightning, Chris Argent looked better when you saw him smile and the best whenever you were fortunate to see him laugh. It was a pleasant sound out of his mouth, but at her expense, Lydia sobered up in shame and ran away.

She left Chris Argent with a split lip, a sore hip but most importantly, a smile and a laugh that rang bells for the future. He picked up the pieces of broken glass and cleaned up the mess Lydia made, wondering how her mother's spaghetti saved them both and had he done more than laugh with her slip of the tongue. 

He stilled, dawning on him that Lydia Martin took liberties with him and he liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is it! I've been mulling with these two for a long while and after what happened in the tv show, I thought I could bring light and joy and all kinds of awkward with this morsel of a muse. Thank you for reading this far.
> 
> I'm 'gifting' this to a couple of really awesome writers who solidified me into venturing in this little ship, so I hope it's up to scratch with the gold they come up with but most importantly, this was more inspired the verse created by maraudersly in Might Like You Better.
> 
> Okay rambling done for now, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think? <3
> 
> P.S. This was not edited, not beta'd so all the mistakes on this one are all mine, nor do I own Teen Wolf because if I did, I would canon Chris Argent and Lydia Martin so hard.


End file.
